Didn’t matter, though. That kind of love wasn’t for her.
Natasha typed back,Don’t fall off a cliff!with a line of heart emojis.
Since Dimitri was out, she took advantage of the empty house. She showered, lotioned up, and climbed into bed, intending to read for a bit. The bed was comfortable, but it was strange being in a bed that wasn’t hers—alone. The sheets and pillows smelled like fabric softener, and she wondered who did Dimitri’s laundry. She couldn’t picture him doing it himself.
Nope, don’t do it. She shook her head to banish the thought. Better not to think about him in domestic terms.
She’d just pulled up a classic British novel on her ereader when her phone rang. Before she touched it, the name flashing on the screen made her snatch her hand back.
Esmeralda.
Her mother. The last person she ever wanted to talk to, but especially not when she was so out of sorts.
With a sigh, Natasha leaned back into the pillows and answered. “Hola,Mami.”
“Mira, nena.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. Her mother still called her “girl,” even though she was now twenty-seven years old. And Esmeralda usually said it like a curse.
She’d never once called hermija—my daughter. But at least Abuelita had.
Her mother continued to rattle on in Spanish, skipping the pleasantries and getting right to the point.
“One of my girlfriends from the salon is a fan and she wants to see the show. We’re flying out for the premiere. Get us tickets.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Natasha fought for calm. She’d been offering her mother tickets to her performances since she’d first moved to LA five years ago. Now she was finally coming, but only because her friend wanted to seeThe Dance Off.It figured. Esmeralda didn’t even watch the show.
“You have enough space in your apartment for us to stay with you?”
She’d know if she’d ever bothered to visit. Before she thought better of it, Natasha said,“Sí, tengo un dormitorio segundo.”
Carajo.Natasha smacked her forehead. Why the hell had she just offered her mother the second bedroom? The one with all her stuff sitting in it, in an apartment with a hole in the ceiling, in a building with a mystery bug infestation. Exhaustion, nerves, tension. She was losing her mind.
“Claro.”Her mother said it like it was all settled. “See you next month.Hasta luego.”
“Bye.”Coño.Natasha dropped the phone on the bed and rubbed her eyes. What the hell had possessed her to agree to letting her mother stay with her in an apartment that was currently off-limits? Temporary insanity? Short-term memory loss? It was like she’d forgotten her home was currently in shambles, her bank account nearly empty, and she was staying with a man whose relationship to her could most accurately be termed a fuck buddy.
Of course, her mother would picknowto finally visit her.
But she couldn’t tell Esmeralda the truth. The woman would go nuts, shouting at her about her life choices, with a strong, underlying current ofI told you so.She’d been saying it Natasha’s whole life, ever since she’d shown a natural aptitude for dance and an interest in pursuing it.
You’ll never make it as a dancer.
She had, though. She’d gotten jobs as a working dancer on not one, but two major network TV shows.The Dance Offwas always in the ratings top ten, and before that, she’d been onEverybody Dance Now.WhileThe Dance Offpaired professional dancers with celebrity partners,Everybodyfocused on pairing dancers from different backgrounds and styles. After Natasha and Gina moved to LA, Gina had gotten them an audition, and they’d joinedEverybody Dance Nowtogether.
Natasha made enough to live in Los Angeles, where she enjoyed more luxury than she ever had while growing up in the Bronx in a two-bedroom apartment occupied by two old people and a teenage mother whose daughter slept in a partitioned-off area of the living room.
She’d come a long way. Being able to afford a good apartment on her own was going to be the final step. Except now it was ruined.
If only she’d saved more . . .
If only she’d put off paying down her credit cards and canceling them . . .
If only the car hadn’t died right when it did, forcing her to buy a new one . . .
If only the ceiling hadn’t fallen in, or the building not been infested with bed bugs . . .
Any one of those things, if removed from the equation, would have left her stable. Secure. Able to cling to the outward signs of success. But all of them combined?
